the enchantress
by oh my fading heart
Summary: "I do not believe in fairy tales, but I believe in you and me." — Ichigo, Orihime.
1. prologue

**—a/n:** for maggie-chan (from here to the moon), who beta'd this story. thank you so much for the support, it helped. oh, and thanks to you, the reader, for bothering to read this. enjoy. (^_^)

ah, yes. this lovely idea of mine (sarcasm intended) derived from my undying love for fairy tales and current obsession with bleach, particularly ichihime. lovely idea, say hello to reader. reader, wave back. now that introductions are out of the way, we shall get on with the story.

p.s. sorry, but this fanfic isn't for kiddies, meaning the rating will possibly go up. and, in case you haven't noticed, this is my very first fanfic. be nice, please?

prompts: forbidden love, love triangles, fairy tales, "wonderland" by natalia kills, heartstrings, and heartbreaks.

(disclaimed.)

* * *

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The start of every story is triggered by something. Each fairy tale begins at some point or another, either by some twist of fate, an absurd wish, or even a whispered secret that a passing mortal/immortal just so happens to overhear.

Cinderella's started when she met her fairy godmother and rode to a ball in a pumpkin. Alice's started when she fell into a never-ending hole. Snow White's started when her own mother wanted her dead. Hercules's started when his parents had sex.

And his started the moment he met _her_.

* * *

**the enchantress  
**prologue

.

.

Once upon a time,

in a land far away,

lived a young and handsome prince—

.

.

_Clack. Clack. CLACK!_

The footsteps become heavier and heavier, and the tall, flimsy man who wields them travels through the castle in a hurry. He's anxious, very weary, because of the news he has come to the castle to deliver. Regardless, the man reaches the end of the hallway, standing before a pair of large, golden doors. He knocks before he is given permission to enter from the other side.

A moment passes before the doors slowly peel open, revealing a man lazily perched on a throne. His short, spiky hair, orange and inferno-like, falls over his chocolate eyes that give a burning glare. His cold demeanor, his unapproachable aura, and his manner creates an invisible sphere around him, causing the announcer to extract the distance between the two.

This is the son of King Kurosaki Isshin, the great ruler and military general of the kingdom; the same person who renewed the kingdom from its post-war ruins. In order to follow into his father's footsteps and successfully rule the empire, he must become as strong and powerful as his father.

He must make his father proud.

In truth, this would be a simple task. His father is a cheerful, lighthearted person—the complete opposite of his appropriate behavior. He tells himself, as well as the villagers, he must make his father proud. But, truthfully, he wishes to make_ her_ proud.

Before the prince opens his mouth, the announcer loudly clears his throat, licks his lips. His voice is hard as the news roll off his tongue, "She's here, Your Grace."

The prince sits up indolently, turning his glance away from the announcer. An instinctive scowl plasters onto his face.

"Bring her in."

.

.

—and with the prince in his kingdom

lived an enchantress who lurked in the shadows.

.

.

"Stay away from the evil enchantress!"

"She's up to no good!"

"I've heard she's cursed men to fall in love with her!"

"You don't think she'll do that to the prince, do you?"

"Possibly!"

.

.

There, she stood alone with a tarnished reputation.

Hidden in the dark corners of the streets, the woman allowed herself—_forced_ herself—to hear the quiet voices of the villagers. Her heart would sink every time she caught a rumor from their lips. They were talking about her, after all.

Her name was Inoue Orihime. At seventeen years-old, she was dripping in beauty. Her dark, orange hair fell carelessly over her shoulders and perfectly sculpted the frame of her grave, charming face, filled with austere and feminine features: amber-dusted eyes, rosy-pink cheeks, and soft, red lips. It was like she mirrored Aphrodite, the goddess of love, desire, and beauty. She sported a long, black cloak, formerly owned by her brother, that cautiously hid her rounded breasts, lissom waist, and slender legs.

She was also a bastard child, with no one to care for her. After the sudden disappearance of her mother, only her and her brother remained, abandoned on the streets of the village to fend for themselves. And as time went by, so did the severeness of her brother's illness, leaving her to steal food and medicine for him, finding anything that could assuage his sickness. This routine, frantic and distressing, continued for several months, until that one dark and dreadful day...

He passed away.

.

.

It was cold outside, and the weather was dark, filling clouds into the sky with raindrops that matched her tears.

The man flashed the girl a weak smile and slowly parted his dry lips, "You know I love you, Orihime."

The girl's insides suddenly felt warm from his voice. Her small hands tightly gripped onto her brother's shirt, to such extent that they were beginning to shake from the pain. A salty droplet escaped her hard, _hard_ eyes as it rolled down her flushed cheek. She opened her mouth in hope for words, but nothing escaped, leaving only the soft sound of her brother's heartbeat.

_Th-Thump. Th-Thump. Th-Thump._

"I want you to stay strong, Orihime," he said sternly, yet weakly. He found it more difficult to breathe as his chest rose and fell slowly. "Find a job in the village, marry someone who will care for you. _Move on._"

_"_No!" She squeaked, more tears streaming down her crimson face. "Don't die, Onii-chan! Please don't die!"

Defeated, the man released a loud sigh, and closed his eyes. She watched in terror; it was like she can no longer breathe. Her skin was tingling, nerves were pulsing, and her heart was trying to purge itself from the position in her throat. She took a deep, long breath to calm herself, and listened the heartbeat that filled the room once more.

_Th-Thump... Th-Thump... Th-Thump..._

"Stay strong, Orihime." His words were in sync with his heavy, nonrhythmic breathing.

The girl watched silently, intently, wiping the remaining tears hidden under her large, hazel eyes. A soft sniffle escaped from her nose, and her eyes are sealed shut, trying desperately not to scream. Her shaky hands gently glided across his shirt, damp with her tears, and landed on his chest.

_Th-Thump... Th-Thump... Th..._

_No._

_No._

_No!_

"Onii-chan?" She called out, softly shaking the large, warm body that laid motionlessly on her lap. When no response was made, she shook harder and harder_._ "Onii-chan!"

Silence. Pure, pristine silence.

"Please don't leave me, Onii-chan_,_" she whispered incoherently under her breath before gradually placing her head on his chest as the flurry of emotions bled through her skin. She bit her lips, hoping—_praying_—for a sound. When a sound was not made, she _broke_.

And she sat there, crying, _alone._

_._

_._

_Please don't leave me, Onii-chan..._

The oh-so-depressing memory would send sudden chills down her back. The stinging sensation would cut into her subconscious, snapping her from her train of thought. But, nonetheless, she enjoyed the feeling. It kept her mind away from the villagers' rumors.

There was a time where she would always convince herself that the villagers' harsh words were merely false accusations. She tried so hard to ignore the things they would say about her and _move on_. But she cannot bring herself to do so, for their words were nothing but lies.

Lies. Lies. Lies. _Lies._

_._

_._

Two years after her brother's death—(See also: present time.)—, she is arrested, charged for theft, and is escorted to the castle for punishment.

And she still hasn't moved on.

.

.

Now, she is surrounded by guardsmen in front of two large, golden doors. A sudden gust of wind whirls about, sending cold chills throughout her body. She grabs the end of her cloak and presses the fabric closer to her body in hope for warmth.

Finally, the doors open, and the guardsmen escort her, rather roughly, through the doors and into the castle. As she trudges through the castle, her eyes scan the exquisite halls in fascination, for she has never seen anything like it. Tall, shiny armor align the edge of the hallways, the floor is fresh-polished marble, and the ceiling, which is her favorite, is covered in delicate and intricate lines and curves of various watermark paintings.

She casts many glances at this composition; her fingers itch with the craving to touch these beautiful features, and her arms stretch longingly towards the ceiling only to fall back again helpless to her sides.

The guardsmen suddenly halt in the middle of the hallway, followed by the girl. Puzzled, she blinks her large eyes and glances around, in hope for a reason for such actions. Her head shifting ceases when she hears a voice from the opened doors ahead of them, and her heart nearly stops when she hears someone demands loudly, "Bring her in."

Without warning, the guardsman roughly push the girl ahead of them and through the open doors, leaving her completely vulnerable to the eyes she had never imagine to see in reality.

_._

_._

The prince shifts his eyes back towards the entrance, and near the open doors reveals the notorious enchantress.

His eyes widen in surprise.

.

.

The prince is the first subject she notices, and her heart flutters when she realizes how handsome he appears, much more handsome than what the villagers have described him to be. Her cheeks feel warm and flushed, and she reverts her gaze to another subject.

Suddenly, her honey eyes become larger, and the air in her lungs quickly leaves her body. Her large eyes turn into envy when she sees the person sitting next to the prince; she has heard _positive_ words about her from the villagers. Yet, she couldn't disagree with them, she is drop-dead gorgeous. Every female would wish to be her.

After all, she is the bride the prince shall marry in two weeks—

Lady Kuchiki Rukia.

.

.

**to be continued.**


	2. the woman is made of lies

**—a/n:** ah, we're now on to chapter two. thank you so much for everyone who read/reviewed/alerted/favorited this, it makes me feel loved. (^_^) again, thanks to maggie-chan for beta-ing. yosh~!**  
**

(as always, disclaimed.)

* * *

**the enchantress**  
the woman is made of lies

.

.

Her violet eyes slowly shift upward, meeting with hers.

Startled, Orihime feels herself panic, carelessly allowing a keen noise to escape from the back of her throat. It is as if she is engulfed in anxiety: her knees buckle, her eyes sting, her ears burn. She quickly shuts her eyes and tries to remain calm. Yet, it is an impossible task while standing in the same room with royalty—with _him._

_._

_._

Even with Orihime's eyes shut, avoiding eye contact from the everyone else in the room, his eyes didn't, _couldn't_, leave her.

She is a _poison_, a drug to be exact. Everything about her is addicting, enticing his eyes to gaze in amazement, appreciation. He continues to stare her down, taking in her bright, red-orange hair and voluminous hips, to her long, bare legs and abundant breasts.

It is hard to believe that this person is _the_ enchantress the villagers are heavily conveying about. She couldn't be the same enchantress who curse men and women, who steal from the poor, who abduct infants during the night. The person standing before the prince is but only a shy, timid young woman with an exceedingly alluring figure.

"Ahem." The announcer clears his throat, capturing the room's attention. The prince breaks from his cluttered thoughts. "If you would not mind, Your Grace, we shall begin the hearing."

The prince briefly nods his head.

The announcer continues, "Ladies and gentlemen, the person standing before you is Inoue Orihime, a woman who is charged for the theft of a gold necklace, worth a hundred gold coins. After a cry for her crime from a victim was heard, the evidence was found in her pocket, proof of her offense against the law..."

As the announcer goes on, Orihime remains quiet, her eyes still shut, her body still trembling. The air in her lungs suddenly escapes her body when she hears the prince clear his throat. She opens her eyes, carefully and slowly, at the scene in front of her.

"Is that all?" The prince questions the announcer, raising a brow. The announcer nods.

Then, unexpectedly, the prince's eyes quickly shift to her, and she becomes stiff, the flutters in her heart and the warmth in her checks return. The prince's expression turns soft, concerning, before questioning Orihime. "Is this true?"

She is not sure how to react to his question; the flutters in her heart and the warmth of her cheeks only worsens. Orihime did not commit the crime, she knows it. Yet, if she objects, it will only lead her into more trouble. The remaining choice is to agree to the crime, whether she likes it or not.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The prince's expression returns to its normal state, stern yet inattentive, before he asks the next question. "Do you understand the consequences of your crime?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Do you pronounce yourself guilty?"

Orihime gulps hard, fighting the urge to tell the truth. It dances on the edge of her tongue, pleading for freedom, but instead, she hangs her head so his fierce eyes wouldn't meet her easily intimidated ones.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

.

.

The sky that day seemed to be a mixture between rain and shine, with most of they sky shrouded in dark clouds and the occasional ray of sunlight managing to filter through. This observation was made by Inoue Orihime as she left her small cottage, rested in a blanket of trees and wildlife. She appreciated these days, for she would enjoyed a walk, sinking in the fresh, damp air.

After hours of collecting various items (from flowers to fruits) in the forest, she hastily made her way to the village with her found goods in hope for a trade or two in the shops. The money she would make from the goods wasn't much, but it was enough to supply her with the right amount of materials she needed.

The moment she stepped foot into the village, all eyes are on her. Orihime was relatively used to the large amount of eyes that glared at her, some with curiosity and others with disgust**. **As she made her way through the crowd, she caught a villager whispering to the others, most likely another rumor the villager has birthed.

Suddenly, her attention was caught by a bright, red apple in a sea of plain, green ones at a nearby stand. She stepped closer to the sweet yet bitter fruit and smiled conservatively, for the apple reminded her of herself.

From a distance, a couple of boys, along with with the other villagers, discreetly observed the mysterious woman. The oldest boy suddenly smirked deviously, the edge of his lips nearly reaching his ears before vigorously tapping the shoulder of the younger boy.

"Psst," he whispered quietly into his ear, "I'll give yer a solid, gold coin if ya sneak this gold necklace in the enchantress's pocket!"

The younger boy's ears perked at this, and his eyes brightened in joy when he stared at the gold coin and necklace in one of the older boy's hand. Before he quickly jumped on the offer, the boy squinted his eyes skeptically, convincing himself that this was mostly likely, definitely another scheme of his.

"Where did ya get it?" He questioned, folding his arms and raising a brow, anticipating on the other's answer.

"Stole it from my mother's jewelry box, she won't even notice it was missin'. So, how 'bout it?"

The younger boy hesitantly nodded, staring at the luxurious piece of jewelry before snatching it from other the boy's hand. He took a deep breath to relieve the anxiety that gnawed at the pit of his stomach before causally walking towards the enchantress. Once he was close enough, he discreetly glanced around, checking for any eyes that were possibly watching him. When he saw no attention on him, he stuffed the necklace, quickly yet cautiously, in the back pocket of the enchantress's cloak and continued to walk, as if nothing had occurred.

The boy released a gallon of air in relief before grinning widely at the older boy, holding out his hand for his reward. The older boy smirked, placing the gold coin in the palm of other's hand. The younger boy shouted in joy, eagerly turning to run to the nearest shop to spend his new earnings.

"Hey! Hey!" The older boy shouted, quickly grabbing the younger one's shirt. The boy paused abruptly, turning around to glare at the older one, his eyebrows raised. The older boy sighed before the smirk returned to his face. "You're 'bout to miss the best part."

Before the boy could open his mouth and question the older boy of what he meant, the older one shouted loudly for everyone in the village to hear, "Help! The enchantress, the evil enchantress, has stolen my mother's necklace! The wicked witch must've placed a spell on my mother and forced her to give it to her! I swear it!"

The boy's sudden outburst startled everyone in the village, grabbing their fullest attentions. Some wore a puzzled expression, others are filled with anger, as a group of villagers began to gather around the enchantress and the two boys. Shocked, Orihime remained silent, reverting her eyes from one person to the next, unaware of what was going on. Her eyes widen when she stared at a couple of guards made their way through the sea of people.

"What goes on here?" The tall, robust guard shouted loudly and boldly, finally in the center of the mass.

"The enchantress stole that little boy's necklace!" A nearby marketer shouted. Angrily, his arms flailed about. "Arrest her immediately!"

Nods and shouts of agreement were given, scattering throughout the crowd. The guard noticed the sudden change of behavior in the mass and shifted his attention to the marketer.

"Where's your proof?" The guard asked reluctantly, folding his arms in front of his broad, armored chest.

"Check her pocket!" The boy shouted, interjecting himself in the argument, pointing an accused finger towards Orihime. Her eyebrows furrowed as the attention became fully on her. Her throat became dry as she tried to speak.

"A-Ano..." Orihime nervously started, watching the guards walk closer to her, in complete terror. "I am innocent..."

The guard smirked, "If you are innocent, then shall I have a look in your pocket?"

Orihime hesitantly nodded before turning around, giving the guard easy access to the back pocket of her cloak. The guard, slowly and carefully, extended his hand into the hole of the thick fabric. He slightly stretch his fingers to reach the bottom of the pocket; she blushed when his hand unintentionally brushed against her bum. The guard's hand clutched onto something, removing his hand from her pocket, revealing the precious string of gold, shining bright in a ray of sunlight.

Gasps and shouts spread through the crowd.

"B-But, I didn't put it in there..." she squeaked. Her heart started to race, and her fists clenched so hard that her fingers ache. Her moist eyelashes brushed against her cheeks; the tears are on the verge of releasing from her large, hazel-like eyes.

"Ah, but _this_," the guard started, holding the gold necklace in front of her mockingly, tauntingly, before continuing, "is the proof that you are the culprit of the crime."

The guard turned, walking towards the crowd, which remained silent. He returned the piece of jewelry to the boy, and the boy whispered his thanks to the guard. Then, the guard shifted his head towards the other guard with a stern expression.

"Arrest her."

.

.

After everyone leaves, only silence remains in the room.

"Do you believe the girl is guilty?" Lady Rukia questions the prince, breaking the silence, avoiding eye contact. Hastily, the prince glances at his fiancée in the deepest corner of his eyes. He slightly shifts in his plush, overly-embellished throne.

"No."

.

.

Three days.

It has been three days ever since Orihime was accused for theft. Three days since she was charged, arrested, and sent to the castle's dungeon for six months as a penalty. Three days since she met _him._

So far, Orihime has fairly adjusted in the dungeon in a short time period. Regardless of the clutter that lies about, the room is rather spacious, allowing her reorganize everything in it. Two buckets, one for the use of cleaning and the other for the disposal of trash, are placed near the back of the room. Damp fabric hangs limply from the bars in order to dry. Her personals, including the hairpins that her Onii-chan had given her before his death, are hidden in the very corner of the room.

Despite the dark, putrid room, it is peaceful, quiet. In fact, she has come to take a liking to the dungeon. There are no villagers around to make sport of her, to mock her. Not to mention, the food the guards serve is passable without cost: cooked goat, tap water, and stale bread. She even thinks that life in the dungeon may have been possibly, most likely more favorable of her previous one.

Somehow, that thought doesn't bother her at all.

Suddenly, her train of thought is cut off when there is a loud noise emanating from the bars. Orihime shifts her head towards the source, her eyes transforming into disgust. There, on the opposite side of the bars, is a guard. Like the others, the guard must have been there to bother her,_ torture_ her. Unfortunately, her assumption is correct.

"Hey, b-bitch!" The guard shouts, his words slightly slurred.

Orihime's nose scrunches at the sudden scent of sake that flooded through the room. The odor leaves Orihime to assume one thing: the guard must have been drunk. She huffs and turns her head, ignoring the drunk guard, hoping he would leave her be.

"H-Hey! HEY! I know you c-can hear me—"

"Release her."

Orihime's breath suddenly ceases, for she recognized that voice. She snaps her head around, and there he was, in front of her dungeon cell, facing the guard. The guard, quickly and shakily, nods his head and parts his distance away from the bars of the cell. He jumbles in his front pocket before withdrawing a large, sliver key in the palm of his sweaty hands. It wasn't long before the key is inserted into the lock on the door of her cell and the door slides, giving Orihime easy access to escape.

Yet, she continues to stare at the two in disbelief, her legs tangled and her hair frayed about. The prince walks slowly into the cell, reaching closer and closer to Orihime, who watches his steps with a wide-eye expression. When he is close enough to her to the extent that is unbearable for Orihime, he extends his hand out towards her, and lets words escape his (perfect, kissable) lips.

"Come with me."

.

.

"Y-Your Majesty, why did you release me?"

Orihime struggles to ask, for she is breathless from walking at such a brisk pace. She is suddenly nervous from the presence of the prince; there's a sudden spasmodic urge to throw up, yet she bites it back.

"Because you are innocent of the accused crime," the prince returns, his eyes never meeting hers, as a scowl reaches the edge of his lips before mumbling under his breath. "And no need for the formality."

Orihime quickly nods her head in apprehension, continuing to struggle to walk in sync with him. Discreetly, he observes her from the corner of his eyes before scowling. To him, she seems too _pure_, too perfect to be the _enchantress._ Yet, here she is, the actual enchantress in the flesh, next to him. The desire to question her consumes him, but he resists the urge and shifts his eyes elsewhere.

In a distance, he notices several servants scattered throughout the hallway, staring and glaring at the two. Some even pass a whisper or two to one another. Prince Ichigo scowls, realizing that the servants are conversing about them. When his hardened gaze meet theirs, the servants immediately disperse and continue their work, in fear of experience the wrath of the prince.

Orihime is bothered by the attention the two are gaining and thinks it wasn't the best idea for them to walk alone. She is beginning to grow bothered, paranoid by the servants nearby.

Finally, they reach the end of the hallway where two large doors sit. Prince Ichigo clears his throat before announcing to Orihime. "Lady Rukia and I would like for you to have dinner with us."

Her eyes suddenly widen in surprise. Before she could have the chance to politely refuse the offer, the doors swing open to reveal a grand room with a table settled at the center. A gasp escapes Orihime when she realizes that there are others waiting besides Lady Rukia. The entire royal family sit at the dining table: the newborn Princesses Kurosaki Karin and Kurosaki Yuzu, Queen Kurosaki Masaki and King Kurosaki Isshin.

Orihime avoids looking directly at his family members as she quietly takes a seat beside Prince Ichigo. The servants appear and begin passing the freshly made food. When the first dish reaches Orihime, she is mesmerized by the enticing smell and appearance. With great fever, Orihime enjoys the most delicious meal she has ever tasted, savoring each bite.

As Orihime eats, light conversations scatter around the table. Her ears slightly perk up when she catches Lady Rukia's and Queen Misaki's exchange of words. They speak of Prince Ichigo's and Lady Rukia's upcoming wedding and the details leading up to it. Curiosity grows within Orihime, yet she doesn't have the heart nor courage to speak up and ask questions. An arranged marriage is such a strange concept to Orihime that the idea remains in the back of her mind.

Once everyone finishes their meal, the servants quickly gather the empty dishes and scurry out. As they do, a few eyes land on Orihime before everyone is staring at her.

Orihime squeaks from the sudden attention. "A-Are you going to send me back to the dungeon?"

The table bursts into a fit of laughter, except Orihime who nervously glances about, reverting her eyes from one person to another. She is puzzled, yet alarmed from all of the sudden noise. "H-Have I said something wrong?"

Suddenly, she feels the prince brush against her, placing his gloved hand onto her shoulder. She squeaks in surprise and slowly faces him, her face flustered. The prince flashes a soft smile (and it feels like she melts from the sight of his bright, radiant teeth) before informing Orihime—

"Lady Rukia would like to escort you to her room."

.

.

"Have you heard?"

"The enchantress was arrested and sent to the castle for theft—"

"—and ate dinner with the royal family!"

.

.

The room is exquisite, just like the rest of the castle.

Her eyes closely examine every feature in the room; they freeze in the center of the room to the large portrait of Lady Rukia and Prince Ichigo planted onto the wall. The portrait reminds her of the conversation Lady Rukia and Queen Masaki shared regarding the marriage, the _arranged_ marriage, between the Prince Ichigo and Lady Rukia.

Suddenly, the subject returns to Orihime's mind, nagging her for attention. Timidly, she calls, "L-Lady Kuchiki-san?"

"Yes, dear?" Lady Rukia replies inattentively with her back towards Orihime as she begins to unfold various gowns, one completely differing from another, onto the bed.

Orihime emits a long breath, clenches her fists. "Do you love Prince Kurosaki-san?"

Remaining silent, the petite woman pauses from unfolding the gown in her hands. Lady Rukia shifts her head directly towards Orihime, giving Orihime her full attention, as her face fills with bewilderment. "Why would you ask such a thing? I love Prince Ichigo very much."

As the woman resumes to unfold her gowns, Orihime continues to carefully stare at her movements. She is slightly in shock of her answer, for her words seem and felt as if they were false. Orihime vividly blinks her wide eyes, bringing herself back to reality and away from her train of thought. "W-Well, I heard you talking about your arranged marriage with Queen Kurosaki-san... Were you not forced to marry Prince Kurosaki-san? Do you think that it is fair for them to tell you who to marry, who to love?"

This time, her face remains hidden from Orihime and she slowly drops the final unfolded dress onto the bed.

Immediately, her head snaps around, her face bright with a radiant smile, as she ignored Orihime's question. "Why don't you get dressed, dear? I have the gowns laid out for you. Pick which one that pleases you."

Orihime quickly blinks her large eyes before scrambling out of the embellished chair. She quickly grabs a white gown, long and flowy, before murmuring her gratitude to Lady Rukia.

Orihime is embarrassed, she feels her cheeks become warm and her stomach tie in knots. Her mind swarms with remorse; she shouldn't have stuck her nose into Lady Rukia's business, especially for all they have done for her. She feels silly for being so disrespectful, so blasphemous, towards the royal family.

.

.

Only two remained in the dining room.

"That girl..." King Isshin starts, rubbing his stubbly chin, grabbing his son's attention. "Is she the**—**"

"Yes," Prince Ichigo quickly answers, avoiding such a subject with his father, his facial features rather disturbed. King Isshin raises an eyebrow for his son's quick answer, waiting for an explanation. Yet, the prince only gives the king a blunt reply. "She's innocent."

The king chuckles lightly, mockingly. "Do you have proof of her innocence?"

Ichigo remains silent and dodges the question, absent of any proof. "She seems too innocent for her own good."

"Ah, she seems _innocent_, unlike the others who are thrown in the dungeon," King Isshin indirectly jokes, yet is filled with disbelief at the same time. "Are you saying that the villagers' accusations of her are false?"

The prince is hesitant with his answer, a scowl plasters his face. He does not enjoy the fact that his father is taking the subject lightly. Containing his frustration, his breathing slightly shifts before answering. "Yes."

King Isshin sighs before standing, signaling for his slumber. He eyes his son one last time and turns around, his back towards the prince, making his way toward the doors. He opens the door before projecting threatening words across the spacious room. "Look, I do not want any trouble from her stay!"

"There will be no trouble," Prince Ichigo assures, as he, too, stands from his seat. A yawn escapes his lips and he stretches his arms outward before returning them conservatively at his sides.

"That, I promise."

.

.

**to be continued.**

* * *

******—**e/n: oh, poor ichigo. what has he got himself into? *sigh* anyways, like or no? some of your lovely feedback would be nice, thanks. (^3^) by the way, in the future chapters, i will go in more depth with the characters that are introduced in the story so far. each character has a significant role, so no worries.

-audrey


	3. the man is made of secrets

**the enchantress  
**the man is made of secrets

.

.

She twists and turns in the endless sea of cashmere-like sheets, enjoying the bliss sensation of the fabric brushing against her body. As she shifts into better and more comfortable position, her thoughts carelessly wander to the previous night, preferably on Prince Kurosaki Ichigo.

In response, she closes her eyes and parts her tainted-red lips. Her mind suddenly fills with every detail of the prince, mostly of his stoic, but handsome, face. Her lips quickly become dry from her heavy breathing, and she flicks her tongue over them while recollecting her encounters with the prince.

The first thing she remembers are his dark, amber eyes. His eyes are soft, yet hard—intimidating, yet emotionless. It is an unfathomable contradiction that only enthralls her even more, but Orihime refuses to look him in the eye, for he seems to read her every thought and movement. The next thing she remembers are his messy locks. His hair is bright and quick to grab the attention of others. Various strands of his hair would casually fall over his face, hiding his emotions, feelings. The last, but most important thing she remembers are his soft and possibly delectable lips. Of course, she didn't acknowledge how his lips would truly taste like.

And, unfortunately, she would never know.

Orihime sighs, then lifts herself from the bed. Her fingers roughly grab the sheets in her hands when the last thought hits her. From the large windows ajar, a breeze blows into the room, breaking Orihime away from her musings. The sudden scent of apples and cinnamon and burning firewood from outside enters the room and swarms her senses.

It smells just like _her brother_.

Again, Orihime glances around the room, taking in every detail. Her eyes drift from various paintings that scatter on the crisp-clean, white walls and gradually shift to the large, white furniture. She manages to smile; it is hard for her to believe that she is temporarily living in this room. In fact, it is hard for her to believe that she is in the _castle_, eating meals with the _royal family,_ and personally meeting _him_.

Giggling softly, Orihime raises her head towards the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling. "Who knew that being arrested would turn out like _this_? I must be lucky, huh, Onii-chan?"

Silence fills the room, yet the noiseless response from her brother doesn't bother her as much as it used to.

Suddenly, the door slowly opens and a person, who seems to be one of the servants, shyly pokes her head through the door. Orihime blinks, startled by the sudden intruder.

The servant nervously clears her throat. "His Grace, Prince Kurosaki Ichigo, would like for you to meet him in the dining hall."

.

.

The doors slowly open, releasing an unsettling, high-pitched noise and revealing _her_.

To the prince, she looks like an angel in her long, white nightgown.

Orihime slightly gasps, most likely in surprise, when her eyes meet the prince. She quickly reverts her stance to a different object before she releases her hand from the door handle and lets it fall carelessly to her sides. A sudden gust of wind from an open window enters the room, causing her nightgown to ripple and flutter. Slowly, she walks over to large table they had eaten at the previous night and sits across from him, not daring to meet his intense gaze once more.

"_Come closer_," he demands, a scowl is placed on his thin lips. His voice loudly booms and thunders throughout the room, causing the luxurious and delicate china sets on the elongated table to rumble.

Startled, a loud squeak escapes Orihime's lips as she begins to feel her body tremble. Wasting no time, she quickly stands from her seat and scurries to his side. Cheeks flushed and breathing unevenly, she sits in the chair next to his.

Prince Ichigo quietly groans in frustration. He should learn how to properly talk to her without being intimidating. She is much too fragile and delicate, and he berates himself for being so tactless. Moments later, servant after servant bring food on carts and trays. They place the dishes onto the table and gradually exit the dining room, leaving the two to eat _alone._

Orihime gulps as she glances downward at the table covered with various and delicious food items. The meal consists of traditional miso soup, steamy okayu, freshly-baked melopans with red bean paste on the side, perfectly-broiled, salty salmon, and green tea as a beverage. Her face suddenly shifts into happiness before she grabs her servings of each item.

She hesitantly takes a bite and slowly chews her food, taking in all the textures and tastes. Gradually, she becomes carried away and eats quicker, more vigorously. Bits of food land on the edge of her mouth, resulting for her to remove it with her thumb. Then, she absent-mindedly brings the thumb to her mouth; her tongue exits her lips and swirls around the digit, making sure to savor the flavor.

The prince watches her in amusement; his eyes attention trained on her every move.

"I'm glad to see you enjoying the food," he comments, taking a bite from his food as well.

Orihime stops chewing and stares at the prince with wide, honey eyes. She was enjoying the food so much that she forgot about his presence. She swallows the remaining piece of melonpan in her mouth before answering.

"Eto, I haven't eaten food like this ever since my brother..." Her eyes suddenly lower, as well as the sweet bun in her hand, as the awful thought began to fill her head. The prince raises an eyebrow, growing curious of her brother. Her eyes shyly return to the prince. "... passed away."

The prince's eyebrows furrow, but he stops himself from questioning her brother's death. He didn't want to intrude into her past life seeing she is a commoner (the enchantress at that) as it would have been the 'unroyal' thing to do.

They remain to sit in silence, yet she is quick to break it.

"He died two years ago due to an illness," she whispers under breath, her hair shields her face from the prince, her lips begin to quiver.

Slowly, the prince lays his gloved hand on top of hers before caressing it and offering comfort. Orihime slightly gasps, alarmed of his sudden touch, as a salty droplet from the corner of hers eyes begin to roll down her reddened cheeks. She sniffles, trying her best to calm herself. But, it became hard to do so when he is staring at her.

"E-Eto, it's alright," he starts, trying to be as comforting as possible. He wasn't good when it comes to things like this—when it comes to seeing such a beautiful girl_ cry_. He lifts his hand from hers and reaches it to her cheek, carefully wiping away the tear.

Another sniffle erupts from her body before her lips slightly curve into a smile. "A-Arigatou, Your M—Prince Kurosaki-san."

He scowls. "Prince Ichigo."

Bewildered by his words, Orihime blinks at him blankly. "P-Pardon?"

"My name is Ichigo," he clarifies. "Call me Prince Ichigo."

Her eyes widen and her body shudders from his words. She urges herself to tell the prince of how unroyal it would be to to call someone of high status in such a common way. But, it is an order, and she must follow it. She sighs in defeat and gives in.

"H-Hai, _Prince Ichigo_."

.

.

"Who knew the enchantress would—

look so good in _white_?"

.

.

A sigh releases from Orihime's lips when she slowly closes the two, large doors. She rests her body against the door, relieved to overcome the tension between the two. Slowly, she opens her brown eyes only to find an elegant, middle-aged woman standing before her. Orihime gasps when she realizes that it is no other than Queen Kurosaki Masaki.

"There you are!" The queen says, slightly stressed yet relieved to see Orihime. Orihime vividly blinks her eyes, wondering if the queen is actually talking to her like she is needed for something. Before she is able to say a word, the queen interjects, "Many servants are too busy preparing for the gala, so I have a favor to ask you of."

Bewildered, Orihime's eyebrows furrow, "A gala?"

The queen sighs, as if hearing the word 'gala' brought her to a deep pit of stress. "Un, it is tonight for the celebration of my son's and Lady Rukia's wedding in ten days. Lady Rukia is borrowing the servants for the day to help prepare for the event, and I have to run errands myself..."

Suddenly, Orihime's eyes shift downward as disappointment fills her mind. She completely forgot about the wedding of Lady Rukia and Prince Ichigo. Of course, she wasn't told of this event, for she is a commoner, an outcast of the village. Only the wealthy and elegant would be invited, laughing and drinking and gossiping about. "Ah, I see."

"As for the favor, I need you to watch over Karin and Yuzu for me."

Orihime's eyes widen in shock, "E-Eh? You need me to watch over the _twins_?"

Queen Masaki raises a brow, "Yes, dear. Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no, Your Majesty! There isn't a problem," she continuously bows to the queen in an apologetic manner.

The queen has a sudden glint of hope her eyes as she claps her hands together in happiness. "Ah, good. Follow me, quickly."

Obediently, Orihime follows. The trip from the dining hall and to the twins' bedroom is lengthy and uneasy, giving Orihime a sickening feeling of giddiness. As the two walk towards their destination, Orihime begins to ponder about a specific thought.

Nervously, she clears her throat and whisper under her breath, "Aren't you _afraid_?"

The queen turns her head, continuing to walk ahead. "Excuse me?"

"Aren't you afraid that I will put a _curse_ on the twins?"

A hearty chuckle erupts from the queen. "That is nonsense! I swear, those commoners are just as dimwitted as they look."

Orihime gasps from her comment, for Queen Masaki's behavior is unexpected and out of character of how a queen should truly act. But, secretly, she begins to admire this side of the queen. It makes her feel as if she isn't judged, mocked for once.

"Child, why in Kami-sama's name would you let them treat you like this?"

Orihime doesn't answer her question; she only stares at the groud in shame. She is heavily embarrassed to think that the queen would scold her so, yet she feels relieved to know that the queen—the ruler of the entire kingdom—doesn't think of her as the enchantress.

And that thought makes Orihime happy and excited and giddy and cheerful for once.

"But, I-I don't understand..."

"What is there not to understand, dear?"

"You... of all people... do not see me as an evil person."

The queen stops in her steps; Orihime cautiously stops as well, trying not to bump into the queen. Queen Masaki turns her head towards Orihime before smiling.

"If my son believes you are innocent, then I do as well."

.

.

The entire day was tiresome, but, nevertheless, Orihime enjoyed it with the twins. In fact, she rarely did a thing—she just kept an eye on them. Occasionally, the servants would bring the twins their meals, as well as Orihime's, and exchange their soiled diapers for new, fresh ones. All was left for Orihime to do was keep them satisfied and entertained.

She sucks in a deep breath, taking in the rich scent of food emanating from the bedroom door, most likely prepared for the gala, while she sits in a comfortable, plush rocking chair with the twins in each of her arms. A moment ago, she hummed a tune that drifted them into deep slumber, resulting for the two to rest and nestle into her chest.

Suddenly, the door creaks open and reveals Queen Masaki, followed by a crowd of servants.

"Come along, dear. We shall now get you prepared for the gala."

"The gala!?"

The queen raises a brow. "Haven't I already explained this to you, dear?"

"U-Un, it's just that..." Orihime drifts off, her glance lowers to the twins in her arms. "I thought only the wealthy and prestigious go to these such events. Besides, you only met me just yesterday.."

The queen loudly scoffs before folding her arms. "Oh, please! I know you more than I know half of the people coming!" Two servants carefully grab the twins from Orihime's embrace; another helps her out of the rocking chair. The queen takes a hold of Orihime's hand and drags her out of the bedroom door and into the hallway. "Now, we have a lot to do, so we should get moving quickly. You want to look gorgeous at your first gala, don't you?"

Startled, Orihime stares at the queen in surprise. She opens her mouth, trying to refuse the order of going.

Then, it hit her. The memory of her brother and her at the oak tree in the center of the village, watching carriage after carriage pass by as they headed towards the castle for a gala similar to this one. She would occasionally catch a glimspe of their gleeful faces, secretly envying how happy they looked to attend the gala. Ever since that day, she dreamed of going to such an event.

Now, she is able to experience one for herself for the first time.

.

.

_"The gala?"_

_"Un. It's an event that the most prestigious people in the village attend. Some even come from different kingdoms!"_

_The young redhead awed as she stared at her brother in amazement. She then shifted her head to the side, strands of hair falling in her face, "Ano, why did you not go, Onii-chan?"_

_He chuckled. "I'm flattered, Hime, but I don't think I'm prestigious enough."_

_"Oh, I see," she said, slightly disappointed. The young man, filled with determination, placed his arm around her small frame._

_"I'll tell you what: one day, we shall go to a gala at the castle. I will be dressed in my favorite pair of pantaloons and dress shirt, and you will be dressed in a beautiful, white dress."_

_"Why a white dress?"_

_"Well, when a girl wears white, she represents purity, innocence. The color makes her stand out amongst others. She easily catches the eyes of admirers and the eyes of misanthropes. She is the true star of the party."_

_She smiles at his eloquent words and diligently holds out her pinky. "Onii-chan, do you promise that one day we will attend a gala at the castle?"_

_The man chuckles as he wrapped his pinky around hers._

_"I promise, Hime."_

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**to be continued.**

* * *

**—e/n: **finally, here is chapter three. sorry that it's short; i wanted to make the gala an entire chapter. i'm already halfway finished with the next chapter, so hopefully it won't take as long to update.

so, how are you guys liking the story? for some reason, i find this chapter to be my favorite so far! i love the interactions i made between masaki-san and orihime-chan. i feel as if this is how the two would act towards each other in a way. masaki would treat orihime like her own mother, y'know?

and i am sooo making ichigo-kun a total mama's boy in this story! he just doesn't know it yet...

oh, and big, sloppy kisses to maggie-chan for beta-ing this chapter. love you, hun. (^3^)

so, i hope you enjoyed this update. your feedback would be much loved by moi.

-audrey


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